


Old Fashioned Relaxation

by Hyacinthium



Series: Oumasai Week 2019 [2]
Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Alternate Universe - Post-Apocalypse, Anal Sex, Begging, Bondage, Dom/sub, Fluff and Angst, Humiliation, Kink Shaming, M/M, Permanent Injury, Praise Kink, Roleplay, Scars, Smut, Vacation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-22
Updated: 2019-06-22
Packaged: 2020-05-16 17:56:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19323193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hyacinthium/pseuds/Hyacinthium
Summary: Shuichi and Kokichi manage to go on vacation after all. Then, after a day at the beach, they retire to their hotel room in order for a specific and special kind of play.In other news: A retired phantom thief finds that his long sought after, and now unobtainable goal, statue has come to life.





	Old Fashioned Relaxation

**Author's Note:**

> Days 3&4&6 HHHHHHHHHHHhhhhhhh this was tricky to write... 
> 
> The role play can be seen as dubcon, due to it essentially being 'living art trades sex for escape from museum', if you think that it should be tagged please tell and I will do so!

He's been sitting still for what feels like hours now, letting the hype drain down. Shuichi can still smell the nighttime beach and all its splendors. The bonfires which he stood a safer distance from, which his husband indulged in dancing by for a short time, and the soft hiss of waves. Even the rest of the day provided outlandishly nice relaxation. Visiting the coral reef reconstruction center had been both educational and exciting too. A vacation is definitely what they've both needed. Neither of the men have been able to unwind like this in ages. 

Although, what they're doing now is something that's similar. 

Shuichi fidgets on his knees, dutifully sitting in seiza position while he waits. It's possible that Kokichi has been watching him this whole time. A prospect which makes the Detective shudder, blinded by some sexual play on sleeping masks. He has no idea how Iruma could tell well enough to give them these things as a belated wedding gift. God, Shuichi can't even be sure how all of this started. But he's wearing a thick and deep blue collar- one that connects to his wrist cuffs via strong chains. Outrageous and lurid, things that make his stomach churn with shy delight.

The chains make sure that he can't even move his hands. 

Yet there's much more that makes him squirm than this. That make him gulp, and one is the ghostlike foot steps that reach his ears. He knows those sounds to an intimate extent. Kokichi's careful and meticulous walking is something that Shuichi has memorized. Likewise, he can remember each faint start of a stumble or the beginning of overwhelming stiffness. Bad days, good days, Shuichi knows each sound. 

Pulse quick. Mouth both dry and drenched. Sweat threatening. 

The hair on Shuichi’s skin raises shamelessly as Kokichi approaches him. Back turned and exposed, just the way that Kokichi ordered. 

Shuichi is ashamed to simply talk about sex at times. At times however, often the same time, his desires are ones that can only be referred to as somewhat odd. Then there's the days where Shuichi is what Kokichi politely refers to as nasty. 

One of those days is absolutely today. 

"My my... Looks at this little treasure I've found! Already stripped down to only the best, the best, decorations. I could steal you whenever I want, couldn't I?" comes the mocking tone of his husband. Kokichi tsks happily, but then makes a disappointed sound. Almost annoyed to such a level that Shuichi could gasp. 

"It's a shame that I'm too exhausted to manage. Oh well! You're just going to be stuck here, I guess," Kokichi muses, not at all sounding mournful. "A thief like me can't even steal anymore. I can only sneak in to avoid crowds and fees now. Maybe I'll visit you later?" 

Shuichi understands what this is, this ritual of affirming things due to how sensitive their play can get. Even with outlines or well crafted routines, mutually decided scenes, both of them can be so conditional. He doesn't mind it at all. In fact, he far prefers this kind of adapting role play. Their general aims for tonight are fine so-

Unsteady breathing leads to a pathetic tone, "P-please don't leave! I don't want to stay in this museum anymore... Could you please steal me instead? I'll do anything you want, even though I'm not as beautiful as other exhibits."

A pause fills the room like a heavy void. Then a shocked sort of noise leaves Kokichi's lungs, obviously from his role as a phantom thief. Shock that makes Shuichi's guts clench. Those footsteps come closer and closer while excitement buzzes inside of the Detective. He can't wait for Kokichi's turn, he can't wait to be under the spell of Kokichi's Talent and be scolded or praised at whim. 

Warm fingers firmly twist Shuichi’s face and neck around, bringing bound hands along for the ride. 

There is nothing that allows sight right now. Shuichi is lost in visual denial, unable to determine Kokichi's feelings. Anticipation bleeds from him like water plunging onto cement. 

"I've never found art that could talk. And here I thought that you were just a statue made by a pervert."

Devious heat spikes inside of Shuichi’s brain while he inhales sharply, already wanting to flinch back-

Kokichi hums carelessly, "Maybe you're just a filthy exhibitionist? But no, I've seen you before in other locations. Then agaaaain! I'm sure that a rich freak could arrange this. I can't take a sicko home with me."

Choking from each verbal slap is like dying from too much water while dehydrated. Shuichi’s breathing stutters relentlessly while his cock stirs just as obviously. Filthy, freak and sicko, each one washes over Shuichi’s entirety like a threat. Or a weapon poised to drive him nuts. The man can't even begin to deny them. 

The blindfold is slowly removed with all the diligence of someone painting a masterpiece. 

Purple eyes stab straight into Shuichi's own. There's so much judgment in Kokichi's gaze that it causes a flinch. Critical, breaking down each contour and every possible element of Shuichi’s body. But oh do they obsess over the Detective's face. He immediately tries to cover it on instinct, yet a hand gently yanks them away. Shuichi squeaks with dismay but doesn't struggle. 

How can he when Kokichi's 'cool' prosthesis has such a stalwart grip? 

"You… definitely are the statue that I came to see tonight. Eyes like those don't change even when alive, huh? There's no way that anyone could mimic that scarring either," the 'thief' notes like it's nothing. Shuichi tries to shy away, but Kokichi refuses to allow it. 

"Hey, don't hide from me. Aren't you supposed to be art?" Kokichi nonchalantly admonishes, eyes narrow. "How can a piece like you even be shy? You're naked all the time. Everyone can see you."

Shuichi shudders outright, and says from a place of sweltering unease, "I don't- I don't like what they say of me anymore. Can't you steal me?" 

Outside of this storyline, of course he's tried to cover the scars on his face. There's staring even when so many people have them. Back when they were first found, while recovering, and somewhat in daily life- there's degrees of being watched. He hates them so often. To see them and to feel them, Shuichi can still smell them when around mirrors. It's insane to think that fire and cooking meat triggers nothing while reflects do. 

And yet-

Those pale fingers and those cool alloy fingers both caress Shuichi’s face. Kokichi tilts him upwards before pushing back purposefully long hair. Everything about Shuichi is screaming, thrashing inside. 

"Don't you know that I've spent years wanting you?" he's asked. Shuichi’s vocal cords release weakness. But Kokichi is not done, harsh yet sincere, "I've devised so many ways to vanish you away, but none of them ever worked. Now I'm ruined- but you say that you want me too. That's so tortuous. How could I ever have you like this?" 

Burning heat stings away at him. Shuichi doesn't like where this is going, he wants where this is going, he's twisting and trying to keep up. Each sentence out of Kokichi's mouth is calling back to the past, reflavored. 

Vacation ending with something soft and something nasty.

"You can have me! You can! I've really been so lonely in here, please have me- don't just leave me here," Shuichi begs, unable to hold back the tears rubbing him raw from the inside out, leaning forward as if to cling. 

Parts of him can only remember frantically pulling Kokichi from something, burning or simply volcanic in temperature. From that the feeling of Kokichi dragging him. It's faintly cloying too, bringing up the scent of firepusmeat and corpse. But those parts are everywhere and everywhen as well. The feeling of Kokichi's hands tracing further down chases them back into their corners.

Collar, similar in color to Shuichi’s hair and made of leather. Metal chain, D-rings of well made metal. Wrist cuffs and sturdy leash. 

"Well then. You are rather beautiful and evocative in your desperation," Kokichi licks his lips and says no more. 

Shuichi whimpers, unable to understand but craving so much more. 

"Each part of you is heavenly," and a finger made of flesh trails along his Adam's Apple. One of metal glides along parted lips. "I've spent so long thinking of you, the scars splashing along you like watercolors. A better name for you would be something like Proof of Survival, you know? There's nothing I want more than to see you. You're always so solemn too…" 

Kokichi grins sharply, "Posed like you'll withstand any tide."

It's so unfair that Shuichi can't run away. 

God, he can barely twitch his legs. Each word makes them feel heavier and heavier. As if not even his body will allow him to escape. Kokichi can tell as well, and his expression grows colder. 

"But I must ask what exactly it is that you're wearing. It's from that exhibit about sex and craftsmanship, but how did you get it on you? Are you a pervert after all? Did you want someone to find you like this then? Perhaps you wouldn't have even said anything and let them see you."

"N-no!" Shuichi protests, wide eyed and nearly panting at how his cock throbs. 

He can't handle this mix of appreciation and rudeness. At the same time though, the switch is calming after hearing such compliments. One disbelieving stare is leveled at him like a brand. Shuichi’s eyes flutter and he looks away, only to be gripped more tightly. There's no denying the message, to keep meeting those borderline cold eyes 

"I don't mind a degenerate treasure! I just need to know how much of a shameful art piece you are. And you did say anything," Kokichi gleefully notes. 

The other man leans in to inspect Shuichi. He rubs at skin, tugs at hair, and even pulls back lips just to expose teeth. Kokichi's organic thumb presses against the point of a canine. After that there's a moment of consideration, right before both hands force Shuichi’s mouth wide open. Confused grunts rise from the Detective's throat- vision blurring from more tears. 

"You don't look damaged at all. As far as art goes, you're perfectly healthy," comes a soft murmur. 

It's too heart-rending yet comforting to hear. 

Kokichi huffs and gets onto the bed slowly. His legs seem quite stiff from today's adventures. Medication is useful, and works well enough, but Kokichi loathes to use it too often. Shuichi’s eyes drift towards the fly of Kokichi's pants. He watches as the 'thief' takes off them off. The simple black slacks are tossed onto the floor, leisurely, and a white button down follows them. Leaving an obvious lack of underwear. 

"Do all thieves dress like you?"

A keen eye darts up to him, lips quirking smugly, "Only the best. Capes are for amateurs."

With that there's nothing less than an imperial flop onto the bed. Kokichi arranges himself to look like a king. It's that which has Shuichi internalize their true surroundings, finally looking at more than his lover. One small bottle of lube is laying on a thick pillow. He finds himself flushing at an entire wall of glass too- nothing but ocean outside of endless window. The kind that can only be seen out off. Shuichi can't even marvel at how impractical it is. He's too busy cringing from embarrassment. 

"They definitely gave you a room with good lighting… a shame that it's night time. Perhaps you were to join that sex exhibit?" Kokichi ponders for but a moment. Then he laughs, mocking while his body curls against a plush white duvet. 

No word come into focus. Shuichi merely stays put, locked into place despite wanting to leap forward. His mouth gapes open just enough for a whimper to make a home there. The character in mind for him is alive and well. A mysterious artwork that wishes to beg and plead for Kokichi to take its offer. Yet Shuichi hinders that part of himself, remaining in an almost painful seiza position. 

Even now he can't quite bring himself to act. 

One finger raises into the air while miniscule artificial joints whirl. Matte black beckons Shuichi forward like a siren call. Kokichi as well, his gaze is so pitch with stoicism that there's no choice. The man is akin to an irreversible command in human form. 

Shuichi obeys. 

"Ha- look at you…"

The Detective crawls forward on his knees, hands unable to lower past his collar bones. Suddenly able to move with just that one life giving hint of being wanted. It's pathetic how transparent I am, Shuichi thinks. 

"Mister statue, I dare say that look is rather," Kokichi idly leers, like a King surveying gorged tax revenue, seemingly content. 

A twitch more and Shuichi is fully hard and aching. Waiting, addicted, hungry for that next foul judgment. The man finds himself embarrassed by his own movement. He squirms helplessly under Kokichi's pondering, slowly coming to rest on pale thighs. Soon he's watching a long stream of lubricant fall onto a somewhat hard cock. 

Kokichi never leaves things to chance if he can help it. Especially not anal sex, which is has been something of a rarity for them as of late. But it's still a horrible seduction to watch that hand do what's usually Shuichi’s job. 

"I didn't say you could stop moving, you lewd carving," the Ultimate Supreme Leader reprimands, lukewarm. "Although I suppose that things like you aren't used to hearing. Let me make it clear then! Since you want me to steal you, and you'll do anything, there's a few options. You ride my thick, veiny, cock until I cum inside of you- or you beg like the submissive you're decorated as."

"What about both?" Shuichi desperately breathes. 

Pride lights up within that self-assured stare. 

"Even better chances, pretty thing."

It doesn't take long for Shuichi to scramble closer. He feels like he's about to explode. Waiting this long is killing him, and Kokichi offers no help. Just because he's been prepared doesn't mean that a dick can go right in though. Not without the use of hands, not when Shuichi is so frantic. The lack of being able to hold or touch is absolutely a kind of torture. Shuichi can only twist is head back and desperately hope. 

He tries to line them up only to miss each attempt. Whimpers soon fill the air, and Shuichi winces at the sounds of lube. 

There's a good few minutes where Shuichi is just rutting his asshole against Kokichi's cock. Preparation and lust makes this oddly good though, the sensation of something rubbing at his home is just good. A tease which has the Detective's hands straining for freedom. Even the noises are starting to send thrills down his spine. Nothing makes Kokichi speak however. 

Shuichi’s voice fills the room with a whine, his eyes shutting tight while his ass bounces uselessly. 

He wants to begin now for Kokichi to stop watching and help him. But that's too much, he can't act that way, and his mind refuses to stop whispering that. Instead the man keeps torturing himself, feeling their slick flesh slide together like a promise. This is far too lurid and Shuichi wants to run again. 

But if he runs then he'll never be… stolen. 

God, he wants Kokichi to steal him-

Eyes widen when two hands grab onto his hips. Shuichi’s silent mouth drools vacantly, his body thumping while Kokichi lines them up. 

"Actually, I'd figured that someone must have done this to you before. But I guess I'm wrong!" Kokichi chirps with purposeful cruelty lacing each word. "You're a stupid virgin." 

"No! N-nnnngh?! Oh, oh!" Shuichi head rips back while his back arches, unseeing once more. He sucks in air with a consistent pattern. Entering, after such a long time of nothing or self play, "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry I should have done. Oh God you're going so deep so quickly! Fuck, I'll do… better…" 

"But you said you'd do anything, right?"

Kokichi guides him down until they're connected at the hilt. It makes all of Shuichi twitch and pulse, the man slumping forward until he's inches away from falling. He feels like precum will drop out of his cock at any moment. 

That single question spears right into Shuichi's core. It makes him reaffirm that, makes him want to make Kokichi proud and happy with him. So unlike how it used to be back during their first few years stuck together. Kokichi used to corral people into obeying him, but now, or at least with Shuichi and like this; all the Ultimate Supreme Leader needs is just a rhetorical question. His very voice is like hypnosis. 

"You're going to fuck yourself silly just to earn my semen," Kokichi factually states without a lick of shame. Hearing it makes Shuichi groan. The other man looks at him like a noble to a beggar and says, "It's obvious why. If I could then I'd be fucking you right into the floor, but you'll have to do alllllll the work."

Pale lips twist, "But a trollop looking masterpiece should be good at this. How else would you get into that gear?" 

All Shuichi manages is to rock himself forward. Then upwards, his legs regaining the courage to move. Each action is rewarded with word and sensation. Kokichi is free with telling him to go harder. Not to mention how the stretch is delightful, Shuichi’s ass insanely pleased just by feeling his husband's cock again. He feels weak without the use of his hands though. It would be easier on him to at least brace himself with them. 

Moans and deep, guttural, sighs trickle from Shuichi’s mouth. Kokichi's dick is absolutely far thicker than average, and it shows in how Shuichi’s sphincter is twitching. He loves the feeling of being made open. Hates to admit it though. 

"You're just so gorgeous right now."

The air is punched from already laboring lungs.

"Everything about you is like some passionate display. Hurry up and move faster."

Shuichi’s body tightens while he tries to hold back more damnable tears. 

"On your face, it looks like waves… I want to see them more."

He really just cannot handle it, and Kokichi knows that so very well. Shuichi’s hands again try to hide his shame. But the man's shame is vast and varied- especially when Kokichi can yank his leash in a way that makes Shuichi squeal. It comes with as terse glare that strikes fear into the 'statue'. Yet he keeps fucking himself the way that Kokichi demanded. 

Each part of his awkward rhythm brings a different kind of pleasure. When Kokichi is fully in, their bodies are flush together, the fullness makes Shuichi's heart sing. And when the man's cock is nearly out all the nerves inside the Detective beg. Of course there's when-

"I… you too, you're…" tears start to leak from Shuichi’s eyes, because to say it is to admit that Kokichi isn't wrong. "Your legs aren't ruined and your hand isn't either. You have me already! You already stole me the moment I saw you!" 

Loathing, he loathes to say it and let all the horrible tears just slide down his face. He adores and hates how Kokichi pulls him closer with such an arrogant smile. That those purple eyes and keen ears are taking in each moment of whiplash. Shuichi feels himself tighten like a vice around Kokichi's cock, but nothing he does sparks a reaction. Unfair. 

Their conversation is verging on outright overtext now. He should know, because it's a mirror to one had long ago. 

"Don't you have a job to do? Satisfy me," Kokichi murmurs. 

Shuichi’s voice cracks like something being snapped in two. He picks up the pace and stifles his moans, plunging down onto Kokichi's cock. It takes a while to angle things right, a time full of little groans and drawn out gasps, but he finds that place. That little bundle of nerves made full by prior attention. Wonderful feelings of pleasure wisp through Shuichi whenever his prostate is hit. 

He quickly finds himself stuck in a state of being on fire but never reaching some far off height. The pace and movement is too awkward, and despite everything he's too exposed. There's gear on him just in order to accentuate and reveal. Shuichi can't even cringe from the sound of chains. 

All the Detective does is continue to bounce and move the way Kokichi wants. 

Frustration builds up inside of him though. Shuichi’s aims aren't just to soak up all this attention for himself. Isn't it true that Kokichi gets the same, his drunken mind blabbers. The man doesn't want to hear his husband speak lowly of himself while providing compliments. 

Licking his lips, Shuichi slows down while rubbing at his collar. 

"I want to caress your body. I want to trail my fingers through your hair and down your spine. Then, to massage your legs, Kokichi, and kiss the where you lost a hand for me," he endlessly speaks, listless and remembering the many aborted attempts to do just that. Both of them have things they can't quite handle yet. 

Like with Shuichi’s face, he couldn't stand the feeling of Kokichi giving his scars sloppy kisses that one time…

He stares vacantly ahead and can't even hide his crooning when Kokichi's hips buck, "Please let me!" 

Kokichi looks into him with something like outrage and apprehension, but Shuichi can offer nothing but- I want to love you. He can't outright say that though. There's not even a need to say it either, of course not, because both of they already know. All they need is the occasional reminders. 

"Sometimes I want to pin you down and show you how I see you… I want to dot kisses down your legs. Kokichi, I want to worship you the way you do me. To tell you how beautiful you are, t-haaa?!"

Frenzied thrusting makes him scream nonsense. 

Shuichi can hear Kokichi hissing out displeasure, calling him a pervert and an overly familiar slut, scolding the Detective for each noise. He begs for that too. Kokichi laughs at him for the admission and accuses him, "Aren't you just a bondage loving nympho right now? You tripped over your hopping onto my dick, and all because you want me to own you. To spend the rest of your life like this. That's repulsive!", but Shuichi only slams himself down harder. 

"Niishishishi, I bet you've been wanting someone to take advantage of you… funny how no one has taken such obvious bait!" the other man grits, seething with eyes that might be wet. It's far from true anger despite the clear offense. "You're so obscene. I should have had you jerk me off onto your face. That's all pornographic art like you is good for! Fuck, saying that shit but you never-" 

Cum pours into Shuichi's hole, marked only by how Kokichi's cock throbs and faint warmth. He sobs grossly just once before relaxing. 

"You never agree with me until… we. Scene over," Kokichi stares up at him with a spaced out expression. 

Shuichi groans happily before squirming his way off of the spent cock inside of him. The man giggles, mind full of Kokichi calling him a nasty and worthless thing made to be a pretty face. A tempting morsel made to incite lust while being useless. Seductive decor fit for tying up, but annoying because it enjoys debasement. He wants Kokichi to say that last one again. 

"Do you really want to do all that even though I'll totally chicken out?" the other Ultimate murmurs, looking completely confused and reaching down to grab Shuichi’s erection. 

Which is, judging by how it hurts just to rub again the duvet, a horrible idea. 

"No touching! It really hurts… just let it go down," Shuichi bursts out of silence, shying away from that gentle prosthetic before Kokichi can finish him. "Felt good, s' good without cumming like this. Take me home with you? I'll do everything you want there, verrry good art slave hh-hehe." 

The scene is over but it seems that Shuichi’s mind is stuck on it. 

Kokichi then does something very unexpected. He start to quiver, and then the man cries in a way that completely undoes any post sex calm. The tears are angrily large and completely unfettered. Rubbing them, Kokichi eventually leaves his prosthetic against the bed. It takes Shuichi a moment to understand what's going on. He can't even register it until the prosthesis sock is removed. 

But by then he's already scooping up his husband, as much as someone can while bound up.. 

"You make a good point mister Saihara-chan… fuck, get it over with. Give me my own medicine!" Kokichi hisses, looking like a rabid cat while shoving his residual limb forward. "Shut up and let me take it!" 

"N-no? Not yet," Shuichi tries to mumble while nuzzling the man. But he spreads kisses onto Kokichi's neck and jaw. He knows that those are always appreciated, and that Kokichi really could use those ticklish things. 

Kokichi curses under his breath and starts to undo the cuffs, the chains, and Shuichi takes his turn to pout about getting his movement back. He can't be upset about it though. This way he can wipe the other man's tears away. Not many of them are there, but they remain rather large drops of saline. Wetness spreads across Shuichi’s fingertips while Kokichi rubs a wrist. 

It's then that he makes a split second decision. Perhaps it's because of Kokichi's own actions, but Shuichi has done something like this before too. He gently takes hold of Kokichi's exposed stump. The other man pauses and sniffles, eyes darting around, but neither of them call for stopping. Shuichi isn't actually sure why the scene ended just then. 

At the same time though- he understands. Kokichi hates to break character the way that he ended up doing, the way he cried without being able to exaggerate or control it. 

So Shuichi cautiously rubs his fingers along skin. It was touch and go at first, but Kokichi has mastered caring for his residual limb. He takes pride in doing everything possible to avoid potential complications. Of course, Shuichi can't help but occasionally think that Kokichi insisting on being perfect is… 

The man leans forward and leaves a soft kiss. He glances up to find Kokichi looking away, pale and lips thinned. Shuichi knows that things are different for his husband. Kokichi has never seemed to care much about the look, specifically, not the way that Shuichi does. No, Kokichi hates to feel useless and parts of him can't understand that he isn't. As if Shuichi loving him has ever depended on something like that. 

But he's not too different himself. 

Another soft kiss is left behind, and another and another, dotting places where shoddy stitches used to lurk. They spread from place to place without a care. Yet at the same time Shuichi’s pace is slow, languid. He can feel the hesitation and tension in the air. But the Detective doesn't stop just from that, chastly providing affection while keeping his ear open for verbal dissent. 

"You're kind of an idiot Detective Conan knockoff still, huh. Wow? I actually think I hate you," Kokichi mutters, but his voice is far too wavering and borderline content for it to be the truth. Shuichi hopes that at least. 

Purple eyes stare down like wilting flowers. Shuichi stares back into them before giving one last peck, his fingers rubbing circles into soft skin. 

"I'm not very original at all, so I can't blame you for finding me derivative," he agrees, smiling slightly, "But I think that you've pinpointed down my unique parts too."

Kokichi scoffs, but his eyes are wet again and his body is limp. The Ultimate Supreme Leader seems to have given up just a bit. Shuichi gathers that it's a good kind of surrender though. After everything it might be that Kokichi understands more now. On why Shuichi likes such oddly provided reminders. 

The other man laughs, "From now you can be my personal massage therapist. Each night. Anyway I… had a good birthday. But I don't think I'll want things to go this way again. Next time I'll punish you, okay?" 

Shuichi watches his husband with a thoughtful eye. He gazes warmly as Kokichi returns to laying in bed- smiles when there's compliments on his performance and how good he looks. But more than that is how Kokichi doesn't immediately grab his prosthetic or subtly cover his legs. Things that happen less and less, and someday they might not happen at all. For the both of them. 

For a good few minutes they chat about the scene. Shuichi carefully removes the cuffs and collar. He sets them down, laughing when Kokichi makes jokes about defacing a classic. 

He slumps onto the bed as well after that. Neither of them can go to bed until everything is cleaned up, but some rest is well deserved. At least there's no clenchy tight feeling in his chest. Shuichi glances over to find his husband lying in his stomach. The man frowns slightly at how thoughtful Kokichi looks. 

"Kokichi… did I mess up?"

Groaning, Kokichi shoves his face into his pillow, "No, you crumblfuffin. I'm sure you can figure out why by yourself too. Your local Overlord is very content."

A weak smile is levied Shuichi’s way. With some time and reflection, the Detective smiles back. He understands that what Kokichi fears is uselessness, helplessness, but maybe Kokichi understands too; that Shuichi himself would never do what Kokichi thinks results from those things. Perhaps there's a way that the Detective can remind Kokichi of that. 

Perhaps not with sex… 

"Happy birthday, Kokichi," the man manages to say despite his red face. 

The rest of the night is full of smug grins and increasingly specific teasing. Shuichi weathers it all with his own smiles, content.


End file.
